


A Synonym for Sanctuary

by tinknevertalks



Category: Sanctuary (TV), The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: But I use their universe with Sanctuary so... sorry?, F/M, James Watson is our Sherlock Holmes, Mentions Darrington Dare, Minor Field Surgery, None of the actual characters from The Librarians turn up, Post Series, Post-Episode: s01e08 And the Heart of Darkness, The House of Refuge, kind of crossover, sutures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Nikola finds a port in the storm, only to have Helen explain it's significance.





	A Synonym for Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> This has been kicking around my Tumblr for ~~at least~~ over a year. I watched _The Librarians_ in a big binge, and for some reason I loved the idea of this house. And I had a prompt challenge thing (the same one that brought forth [One Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371501) (ooooh, and [Hold My Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287909) and [Decent Cuddles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491261)... This was a good prompt list!) and ViennaInSpringtime asked for: _Patching up a wound_. She was (one of) the reasons I watched _The Librarians_ in the first place, so I wrote this. XD
> 
> As I wrote at the start of the Tumblr post: _So a ~~short~~ author’s note: this is for patching up a wound. I’m not sure how sutures actually work (never needed stitches - boom!) but a heads up, someone needs stitches. Also, I really am obsessed with the House of Refuge, and when these prompts came through I was already working on a Teslen fic that had hurt!Helen, so this fit perfectly (I literally had like the first two/three paragraphs)._
> 
> Unbeta'd, so any/all mistakes are mine. Lemme know what you think.

Nikola slammed the door open, dashing through as it bounced off the wall, his arms full of Helen. They’d been chasing an ice salamander when an avalanche ( _always an avalanche_ ) started a way away, thundering down the mountain towards them. They escaped the snow, but not without Helen falling. “You would find the one rock hidden in the drifts,” he muttered darkly, placing her on the sofa, careful not to knock her head as he knelt beside her. Sighing, he pushed her hair out of her face, grimacing at the blood oozing slowly from the gash on her forehead. “I need a miracle,” he sighed, despondent. She was their doctor, he was their inventor; they never switched roles.

“Sir?” A warm, damp cloth was pressed into his hand, as an old man hovered by his shoulder. “The young lady should be awake soon.”

Nikola sneered at the man before turning back to Helen, pale but breathing evenly. “At least there’s that,” he muttered as he wiped the blood away. The old man nodded, puttered off, only to reappear moments later, a glass of red wine on a tray. Nikola took it, muttering a distracted, “Thank you,” before sipping. It was a minute or so later he stopped fretting long enough to realise he had Questions. Looking at the glass, then looking at the old man, he asked, “How…?”

“You asked, sir, up here.” The old man tapped Nikola’s temple. “If you have need of me, call for me.” And with that, he left the pair alone.

The wine was palatable, and as he put down the (fairly large) glass, he noticed the first aid accoutrements. He shook his head. “No. Sorry Helen, if you need your head stitched up, you’ll have to wake up and do it yourself.” Collapsing slightly himself, he sat with his back against the sofa, looking toward the open door as he drank his wine. “It would be an avalanche, wouldn’t it,” he muttered after a while, rubbing his chin. “As if the ice salamander wasn’t bad enough. How is it even possible to have an ice salamander in the first place? Really, Helen, you do know how to pick them.”

“I’d be careful,” she muttered, her breathing deep, “I picked you.”

“Helen!”

She smiled, pained, as he turned to face her, grabbing her hand as he moved onto his knees. “I’m right here Niko… no need to shout.” Slowly, her eyes opened. As blue as usual, Nikola was happy to notice, and her pupils were responding, although a bit sluggishly. “You need a… an ophthalmoscope,” she told him as she tried to sit up.

Try being the operative word. Almost as soon as she began moving the room spun, Nikola the one thing holding steady. “I… Bloody hell, my head hurts,” she complained, falling back onto the pillows. Nikola grimaced as he watched her touch her forehead. She frowned. “Mirror. I need a… a mirror.”

Almost as soon as the words were out a mirror appeared next to Nikola’s glass. Silently, he handed it to her, daring to hope…

“Bugger.” She tilted her head to one side. “Hate stitches,” she muttered. “You’ll have to do it,” she told him.

“I’ll ha…?” He shook his head. “I’m not a doctor Helen.”

She snorted. “I know that. Still need stitches though.” Turning onto her side, she looked at the table. “You have everything there.” Blinking owlishly, she smiled, a small, gentle smile meant to reassure him. “I trust you.”

Nikola grimaced. “That’s not fair,” he said, as he grabbed the things on the table, still kneeling next to her. “You’ll have to remind me how to do this, it’s been a while.”

“Nikola Tesla forgetting something?” The smile was bigger now, happy that her head wound would be seen to.

“I’ll deny ever saying that,” he told her. “Uhm…” Between them, Helen explained how to start the sutures, how to hold the needle and thread, and Nikola started stitching her up. “Nigel never squirmed like this,” he muttered.

“I’ve had two sips of wine and a belt to bite,” Helen reminded him, looking at the buttons of his shirt, ignoring the spreading warmth in her abdomen as she remembered the way he removed said item. “Nigel had half a bottle of whiskey in him before you touched him.”

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he knotted the thread. “Yes, and a hand to hold, as I recall.”

“Shame I broke my arm that day,” she said, wincing slightly. “You took so long.”

“Wasn’t my fault he started singing sea shanties.”

“You didn’t have to join in!” she replied, laughing before grimacing. “Bloody hell.”

“Last one,” he crooned, stroking her head with the hand not holding the needle.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she muttered, before biting down on the belt again.

“Oh? What are you worried about then?” he asked, tugging the needle and thread through to close the wound..

She raised an eyebrow and bared her teeth. Even through the thump of her headache she delighted in watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, his hands stilling for a moment before knotting the last suture. “Mirror,” she murmured finally, taking it from him to inspect his work. “Impeccable,” she told him, handing back the mirror. “Painkillers? I really want rid of this headache?”

“Madam?”

Helen looked up at the voice, then back to Nikola. He nodded and the butler knelt on one knee next to him, a silver tray in hand. On the tray stood a glass of water and some tablets, as well as some tea and toast. “How…?”

“We asked for it,” Nikola explained, shrugging.

Helen groaned as she took the tray. “Thank you,” she muttered to the butler, who simply nodded, stood and left the room. “I didn’t think it was real.”

“Helen?” he asked, taking the tray from her magnetically whilst his hands helped her sit up.

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you remember… What was his name? The man who thought Sherlock was based on him?”

Nikola started to shake his head, not knowing who Helen meant if not James, when a face flashed in his mind. “Dare? Da… Darrington Dare?”

“Yes!” Helen replied, eyes wide, smiling. “He was The Librarian.”

Nikola nodded, realisation sweeping over him. “Pesky little–”

“He was almost as tall as John,” Helen interrupted.

“They have my Death Ray in that Library of theirs, did you know?” he told her, sitting next to her.

She nodded, holding his knee to keep herself steady, “I did. I gave them the full blueprints.” She shook her head. “That’s not…” She huffed. “Darrington found me the second time around, wanting help with an abnormal he kept insisting was magic, and asked if I had, on my travels, seen an odd house.” She looked around. “I think he meant this odd house.”

“It’s just a house.”

Helen shrugged. “It’s meant to appear when someone is in desperate need or is in a crisis.”

“You were bleeding, this was the first place I found,” Nikola explained quietly. The room felt too full and silent after his unspoken worry.

“We were desperate,” she replied, just as quietly, bobbing her head. “Thank heavens it heard you,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder.

Kissing her forehead, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as her arms curled around his waist, Nikola hummed in agreement. Better to be inside with barely tolerable wine and warm Helen than outside in the snow. “We still have to capture that ice salamander?”

“Oh yes,” she replied, smiling.

Nikola’s lip curled. “Today?”

Shifting so she could sit on his lap, Helen kissed the underside of his chin. “It can wait a short while.” She kissed his jawline and nuzzled his neck. “I have a head injury that needs tending.”

As he captured her lips, Nikola sent one last request to the house. In the distance he heard a small snick as the lock moved into place. He could play doctor, for a little while longer at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I will go back to creating and posting brand new fics now. XD


End file.
